The Cult of Osiris (2 page)

Mocking the sound and light show's bombastic narration had slightly lifted Macy out of her black sulk when she spotted Gamal, from her position in the shadows only his upper body visible above the top of the temple's northern wall.

There were two other men with him, one an ugly guy with a greasy mullet and a snakeskin jacket, and the other someone she recognised. Mr Sharman, Shaban, something like that? She had seen the scar-faced man briefly at the start of the dig; he was connected with the religious organisation co-funding it with the IHA. Presumably he was here to meet Berkeley.

The trio made their way to the corner of the smaller temple, where Gamal paused and looked towards the Sphinx - almost furtively, Macy thought. The cold stare of the man in the snakeskin jacket swept over her as he surveyed the area, then unexpectedly flicked back. An involuntary shudder ran through her. She had no idea why - she had every right to be there, and wasn't doing anything wrong - but by the time the rational part of her mind told the rest of her body to relax, he had looked away again.

To Macy's surprise, rather than descending the ramp towards the Sphinx, Gamal hopped across the gap between it and the upper level of the Sphinx compound, disappearing from her view. The other men followed.

Weird. The upper temple was over a thousand years younger than its larger neighbour, a product of the New Kingdom from around 1400 BC, and while it was in relatively better condition than the Temple of the Sphinx it was much less important historically. Why was Gamal giving a private tour? In the dark, at that?

Standing, she saw the tops of the men's heads as they walked towards the temple entrance -and continued past it. Now she was
really
curious. There was nothing else up there. Where were they going?

Macy climbed out of the temple, seeing the trio rounding the ruin above. Some childhood Nancy Drew instinct kicked in, the urge to find out what they were doing rising, but she resisted it - until shouting came from the Sphinx. Berkeley, yelling at an Egyptian labourer who had just dropped a box.

Screw it,
she thought. If Berkeley was still acting like a jerk, she didn't want to be anywhere near him. Instead, she ascended the ramp and jumped across to the upper temple.

Green laser lines flashed above her, projecting hieroglyphics on the pyramids as the narrator sang the praises of Osiris, the immortal god-king of Egyptian legend. Yeah, yeah, heard it all before,' Macy whispered as she peered round the temple wall.

Part of the plateau's north end had been cordoned off by orange plastic netting where repairs were under way on the high wall. A couple of small cabins and a tent-like structure

stood amongst stacks of bricks and piles of rubble. It was such a mundane sight that while Macy had seen it every day as she entered the Sphinx compound, she had never actually
noticed
it before. Certainly nobody ever seemed to do any actual work there.

There was someone there now, though. As well as the men at the gate, other guards patrolled the compound to make sure no tourists tried to get up close and personal with the Sphinx. But the man waiting for Gamal and the others wasn't patrolling. He was guarding the construction site.

The lighting changed, more lasers and spotlights slashing the black sky. The guard watched the display, only turning away when the visitors reached him. Brief words were exchanged, then he let them through the netting.

Gamal reached the tent and pulled aside a flap, revealing lights within. The other two ducked through, and with another furtive backwards glance Gamal followed. Macy jerked back behind the temple wall, wondering if he'd seen her, before realising how dumb she was being. So what if he had?

She peeked out again. The guard was strolling along the netting perimeter, looking bored. Through the gaps around the tent flap, she glimpsed activity within.

The movement stopped.

Macy kept watching, but it didn't resume. What were they doing in there? Unless all three men were squashed together at one end, the tent didn't seem big enough for them to keep out of sight. If anything, it now looked empty, but she couldn't see how that was possible. It was right against the high wall.

She noticed something else, though: a faint plume of smoke. No, not smoke -
fumes,
chugging up from the end of a hose. But there wasn't a generator in sight.

So where were the fumes coming from?

Interest now well and truly piqued, she rounded the corner, keeping low behind a pile of dirt. But she quickly realised her stealthiness was pointless; to reach the construction site, she would have to cross a wide, open space, and unless the guard was blind he couldn't miss her.

But in a few moments, mavbe he
would be
blind . . .

She knew what came next in the sound and light show, having heard it every night. The narrator was about to begin his tale of Khufu, builder of the Great Pyramid - and the lights would briefly drop to black before illuminating Khufu's monument at full brightness.

Macy closed her eyes, waited . . .

The lights went out.

She opened her eyes again and raced for the tent. Only a few seconds before the Great Pyramid lit up like a beacon—

Dramatic music thundered from the loudspeakers, the Great Pyramid exploding into view to the northwest. Macy reached the gap in the netting and skidded to a halt behind one of the stacks of bricks. She glanced round it and saw the guard staring at the floodlit structure.

She let out a breath, feeling something she hadn't felt since first arriving in Egypt: excitement. No, that had been more like
anticipation,
but this was a genuine, almost child-like thrill. This was fun!

Holding in a nervous giggle, she looked at the tent. Now that she was closer, she could hear the chug of a generator - but only faintly, and with an odd echo. She checked again that the guard wasn't looking in her direction, then crept to the tent.

Nobodv was inside.

The
helP/
Macy wondered aloud, slipping in. One end was taken up by a makeshift cubicle of cheap particle board. Since it was little more than three feet wide, she doubted Gamal and the others were huddled within.

But she lost interest in it when she saw what was at the tent's other end.

A trestle table had construction blueprints spread out across it; she recognised the topmost as a plan of the Sphinx compound. What had caught her attention, though, wasn't on the table, but hanging on the tent wall above it. Large colour photographs, blow-ups of ancient papyrus scrolls. The same scrolls that had brought her here in the first place.

The Hall of Records, a repository of ancient Egyptian knowledge beneath the Sphinx that was reputedly only surpassed by the Library of Alexandria, had long been considered nothing more than a myth. But a privately funded archaeological dig in Gaza had discovered papyrus pages that described not only the Hall itself, but also how to get into it - through a passage that had once descended between the Sphinx's paws. When the pages were scientifically confirmed to be over four thousand years old, the Hall suddenly became one of the hottest topics in archaeology, and the Egyptian government granted the International Heritage Agency's request to conduct the dig that would confirm whether or not what was said on the Scrolls was true.

The problem, Macy knew, was that the IHA had only been given three scrolls. Yet here was a fourth.

She moved closer, silently mouthing the words as she translated the text. The ancient language had been taught to her by her grandfather along with Egyptian history and mythology, his hobby eventually influencing her choice of degree. The new scroll said more about the Hall of Records than the IHA had seen: not just its position, but its contents. Something about a map chamber, a zodiac, that revealed the location of. . .

The Pyramid of Osiris?' Macy whispered in disbelief. That was nothing but another of her grandfather's myths, surely? Osiris was a legend pre dating even the First Dynasty of almost five thousand years ago, and legends didn't have big-ass tombs built for them, only pharaohs.

But that was what the papyrus said. The Pyramid of Osiris, the tomb of the god-king. No suggestion that it was a myth; the text seemed as factually descriptive as it was about the Hall of Records. Whoa,' she said as she realised what that meant. If the Pyramid of Osiris was real, then so was the man buried inside it. Not a legendary god, but a flesh and blood ruler.

until now lost in time. If his tomb could be found, it would be one of the greatest discoveries in history . . .

She looked at the plans on the table. The position of the east-west entrance tunnel to the Hall of Records and the IHA excavation were both clearly marked - as was another, longer tunnel from the north.

It crossed under what was now the modern road and ran, she realised, directly beneath the tent in which she was standing.

Macy turned to the wooden cubicle. The panel facing her was hinged, a roughly cut hole acting as a handle. She eased it open.

Now she knew where the three men had gone.
Down.
A ladder descended into a shaft, dim lights revealing the bottom over twenty feet below. The hose expelling the generator's exhaust fumes ran up one corner, the machine now clearly audible.

As were voices.

Getting closer.

Excitement fled Macy, replaced by fear. Someone was running their own secret dig, trying to beat the IHA team into the Hall of Records. Trying to find the Pyramid of Osiris for themselves.

Which meant that if she was caught in here . . . she was in trouble.

What should she do? Tell someone - Berkeley or Hamdi? But Gamal was obviously in on it, and they would believe him over her. She needed proof . . .

Weight in her thigh pocket. The camera.

She pulled it out and switched it on. The wait for the lens to extend and the screen to light up had never seemed so long.

A rattling sound from the shaft. Someone climbing the ladder.

Throat tight with rising panic, Macy took a picture of the four papyrus pages, then tipped the camera down to capture the blueprint.
Click—

What the
fuck?'
The shout came from below, the accent American. The guy with the snake skin jacket. He had seen the flash.

Another shout. The guard outside. Macy heard his footsteps thudding towards the tent. The clattering of the ladder was louder, faster, as the man hurried up it.

She ran—

The guard threw open the tent flap - just as Macy burst through, shoving him aside and sprinting for the temple. She was through the plastic netting before he regained his balance.

Hey!' she shouted, hoping somebody from the IHA dig would hear her, but her voice was drowned out by the light show's narration. Behind, Shaban screamed orders to catch her.

Fright spurred her on. She rounded the ruin, the shadowed maze of the Temple of the Sphinx spread out below, ominously lit in shards of red and green. Someone was on the walkway—

Dr Hamdi!' Macy cried. 'Dr Hamdi, help!

Hamdi stopped, looking bewildered as she leapt over the gap to land in front of him. What is it, miss - Macy, isn't it?

Back there!' she gasped. They're digging, they're trying to rob the Hall of Records!'

What? What are you talking about?'

Macy looked back as the guard ran round the side of the upper temple, slithering to an uncertain halt when he saw Hamdi. That guy with the scar, Shaban, he's in charge! He's got a fourth scroll -1 took a picture!' She thumbed a button to bring up the image. Look!'

Hamdi's expression changed from confusion to shock. 'I see. Come with me.' He took her by the arm . . .

And gripped, painfully tightly.

Hey, what—' Macy said, trying to pull free. He squeezed harder. 'Let gol'

He ignored her. The guy in the snakeskin jacket ran into view. 'Bring her up here!' he yelled.

Hamdi pulled Macy towards the gap. She thrashed at his face, but he deflected her blows with his free hand. The guard ran towards them—

She fired the camera in Hamdi's face. He flinched, dazzled by the flash - and Macy smashed the camera's hard edge against the bridge of his nose. Another strike to his forehead, and she wrenched herself from his grip.

The guard leapt across the gap, blocking the way to the Sphinx. Instead, she ran along the walkway - and saw the two guards from the compound gate rushing at her.

They were all in on it!

She changed direction, jumping on to the Temple of the Sphinx's northern wall and running along it. The ancient, weathered stone was uneven beneath her feet.

Get after her!' the American shouted. The first guard followed her on to the wall. The two men ahead also changed direction, intending to leap over the ditch separating the temple from the compound's upper level and tackle her.

The wall was over twelve feet high, too far to jump down . . .

Instead she flung herself off the wall at an angle - just barely reaching the top of a ruined stone pillar five feet below, then springing off that, legs flailing, into the darkness beneath. Pain exploded in both feet as she hit the ground and fell, her phone and some loose coins flying from a pocket and skittering away.

The guard jumped off the wall after her—

The lighting changed, the red highlights on the lower block suddenly vanishing. The man's outstretched foot missed its top. His other shin cracked into the stone's edge, sending him spinning to the unyielding ground. He let out a keening wail as he clutched his injured leg.

Macy wasn't feeling much better, gasping in pain as she stood. She was not far from a passage leading to one of the temple's original entrances. Ankles throbbing, she limped into the deeper darkness behind the high eastern wall.

She turned the first corner, looking back. A guard was on the north wall, but his attention was on his wounded comrade. He hadn't seen her. Round the second turn—

And crashing to a stop against metal bars.

Shit! She'd known there was a gate to keep tourists out of the temple, but it was taller than she'd thought, too high for her to climb. Beyond it she saw the seated audience, but they were looking up at the brilliantly lit Sphinx, not the unimposing ruin in front of it, and wouldn't hear any shouts for help over the soundtrack's bombastic crescendo.